


Today, Tomorrow, Forever

by littleboat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aran & Atsumu friendship, Aran & Kita friendship, Aran third year study, Character Study, Gen, Ojiro Aran - centric, Ojiro Aran Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29597268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboat/pseuds/littleboat
Summary: Who was Ojiro Aran, ace and who was Ojiro Aran, captain? Were they the same person? Did they go hand in hand? There was a time when he was just Ojiro Aran, wing spiker. Where did he go?Would he find him again when he had to become Ojiro Aran wing spiker once again?or losing at Nationals is Aran's lowest low. What he doesn't expect is the high that comes immediately after.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	Today, Tomorrow, Forever

The offer comes the day after they get home from nationals. 

Aran isn’t expecting it, not this early at least. It’s a Saturday morning, syrupy slow. The cartoons are on for his baby sister, dancing animals smiling brightly, making her giggle with their silly faces. 

His mother is standing at the stove, preparing eggs, while his father cuts vegetables to fold into them. 

He’d offered to help, but they both shushed him and pushed him towards the living room, insisting he take it easy after nationals. 

Losing had been a disappointment. Losing so early had been an even greater disappointment. 

The tears hadn’t found him until they were on the bus, three hours into their drive back to Hyogo. Surprisingly, it had been Atsumu who’d stood up from his seat next to where Osamu was sleeping, sat next to Aran, and offered him an earbud. 

They didn’t say anything when they got off the bus, not even when Atsumu had taken his earbud back and Osamu had stared at his twin like he’d grown a second head. 

Instead, the twins turned in one direction, and Aran walked home with Kita, the midday sun hot on their backs. Neither of them said anything, but this was one of the many times when words weren’t needed. 

Disappointment hung heavy between them, underlined by a silver lining they weren’t quite ready to appreciate. 

Aran scoops his sister off the couch and carries her to the dining table. Her smile has a gap. She’d lost her first tooth only two weeks ago, and Aran had helped her clean it off and throw it onto the roof. 

They’re about to eat breakfast when Aran’s phone rings. 

“Hello?” he says. His parents’ eyes turn to him. He sits down and waits for the person on the other end of the line to speak. 

“Ojiro Aran?” The man has a gravelly voice, one Aran has never heard before. 

“Speaking.” 

“This is Ueda, the coach of the Tachibana Red Falcons.”

Aran almost drops his phone. 

Immediately, his palm clam up and his heart begins to pound a rhythm that would put the drumline of the Inarizaki marching band to shame. 

“S-sir,” he says, and internally curses the way his voice breaks. 

“Is now a good time to speak?” 

“Yes sir,” Aran says. His parents try to meet his eyes, but he resolutely avoids them, staring instead at the flowers printed onto the tablecloth. 

“Excellent.” Coach Ueda sounds so easy-going and confident. Aran knows he sounds choked up, but he’ll allow himself a moment of grace, since so much of his future feels like it’s riding on this phone call. 

“Well, Ojiro-san, I don’t want to take up your morning, so I’ll make this quick. We’ve been extremely impressed with your abilities. We wanted to extend you an invitation to join the Falcons.” 

The world goes silent around him. The drone of the tv turns into static. His sister’s excited babbling fades into nothing. 

Coach Ueda keeps talking like he hasn’t shifted Aran’s world off-balance. 

“You don’t have to make your decision right now. Come visit us at the gym. We’ll follow up with the details.”

“Thank you,” Aran says, heart in his throat. 

He hangs up and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. 

His mother screams when he can finally collect himself enough to tell his parents. His father picks him up and spins him around the room in a way he hasn’t since he was probably his sister’s age. 

~

The Inarizaki team group chat erupts up when he tells them news. 

He’s the first third year to get an offer from a professional volleyball team, before any of the Tokyo players even. Even Fukurodani’s Bokuto Koutarou hasn’t gotten an offer yet. If he did, the countless other volleyball group chats Aran is in would certainly have heard about it by now. 

He spends the next two weeks watching video after video of the Tachibana Red Falcons, memorizing their starting lineups from the past ten seasons. 

Every play etches itself into his mind. They’re a strong offensive team with one of the best middle blockers in the V League right now. 

Aran’s decision is nearly made by the time he sets foot into the Falcon’s gym. The squeak of sneakers on the floor, the smell of volleyballs fresh out of their packaging, the proud gleam in the players’ eyes. 

_Teammates,_ his brain supplies. 

His decision is finalized when their starting setter steps forward, a Brazilian man with a bright smile and skin the same shade as Aran’s. 

The Falcons send him a jersey with his name on it two weeks after that. 

All of Inarizaki bursts into tears when he shows it to them after practice. 

~

The high of getting an offer should have worn off by now, but it hasn’t. Every time he remembers what’s waiting for him after graduation, he’s filled with a new surge of pride. 

Even Kita, who feels emotions the way an office worker glances at a memo before signing off on it, smiles at him every time he catches the look on Aran’s face when he thinks about his offer. 

Graduation creeps up on him in no time. 

Too soon, he’s played for the last time in the Inarizaki gym. Too soon, he’s run his last lap, hit the last of Atsumu’s perfect sets. 

His pride is undercut with sadness, with a heart wrenching sense of loss. 

And then the third years pick up their graduation gowns, the same maroon as their team jackets, and the excitement is back in full force. 

He, Kita, Oomimi, and Akagi rearrange their seats so they’re all sitting next to each other throughout the ceremony. They spend the three and a half hours graduation takes cracking jokes and making each other laugh. 

The Miya twins get scolded by a teacher for trying to out-cheer each other when any of the third years walk across the stage. 

When they’re reunited with their friends and family, they both hide behind Aran, expecting a scolding from Kita. To all their surprise, he tips his head back and laughs, ruffling both twins' hair. 

Suna gets it on video and sends it to the group chat. 

~

After posing for enough photos that Aran feels like all of his limbs are ready to fall off, his family is finally ready to call it quits. 

Akagi’s parents invite them all over for dinner.

Aran follows the rest of the team, excited to take his gown off and put on a t-shirt after being in a dress shirt all day. 

A hand tugging at his graduation gown stops him. 

He turns around to find Atsumu, eyes locked on the ground.

“Aran-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“Do ya have a second?”

“Sure, Atsumu. What’s up?”

Atsumu tilts his head, gesturing to the field near the baseball diamond where they sometimes eat lunch when the weather is nice. Kita pauses when he notices Aran and Atsumu aren’t with them. He raises an eyebrow at Aran, but Aran gestures for Kita to go ahead. 

He follows Atsumu until they reach a sun warmed patch of grass. He gestures for Aran to sit and then takes a seat next to him. 

Silence settles over them, for one moment, two, three, until Aran breaks it and asks, “What’s up, Atsumu?”

He watches Atsumu’s gaze flit from the baseball diamond, to the grass, to his hands, and back again. 

“Atsumu?” 

Finally, Atsumu looks up and meets his eyes. He’s never seen that kind of vulnerability on Atsumu’s face before. 

When he opens his mouth to speak, his voice is wavering, hesitant, like a house of cards on the verge of being knocked over. “How am I supposed to be captain next year?” 

It’s not the question Aran was expecting and it floors him. 

“What?” 

Atsumu scrubs at his face. “How am I supposed to take yer place as captain?”

And oh, that’s not the question Aran was expecting either. 

“Who says yer takin’ my place?” Aran asks. 

“Wait, wait.” Atsumu holds a hand up and Aran can practically see the gears turning in Atsumu’s mind as he tries to settle on the wording for his question. “What I’m tryin’ to ask is, how did you balance bein’ a captain with bein’ the ace? How did ya take care of everybody while not losin’ yourself on the court? How do I balance bein’ the setter with bein’ the captain?'

This time, Aran is floored, but for a completely different reason. It’s a great question, one he’s never thought about before.

Who was Ojiro Aran, ace and who was Ojiro Aran, captain? Were they the same person? Did they go hand in hand? There was a time when he was just Ojiro Aran, wing spiker. Where did he go? 

Would he find him again when he had to become Ojiro Aran wing spiker once again? 

“I trust you all.”

He says the words quietly, but they open up an echoing chasm between them. 

“Every day, before I got on the court, I trusted that Kita did his best as captain. And then I would get on the court and trust that you’d all do your best, regardless of the outcome.”

Aran pauses, stares down at the palms of his hands, at the callouses he’s spent years earning. 

“The hardest part was trusting myself.” He looks up and meets Atsumu’s eyes. “I had to trust that I would get on the court every day and do _my_ best. And I had to trust that that would be enough.”

“It was,” Atsumu says immediately, all of his earlier hesitation gone. “It is.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence settles over them again. Years of watching Atsumu on and off the court have taught Aran that he is the quieter twin, the one who beats himself up the most. No one is harder on Atsumu than Atsumu is. Aran thinks he knows what that feels like. 

So he puts a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be great. Don’t spend time stressin’ over gettin’ it right or wrong. Trust yer gut. The team trusts you. _I_ trust you.”

Aran says it because he hates letting important things go unsaid. 

“I’m gonna be doin’ somethin’ new too, ya know. I’m startin’ somethin’ scary too. We’ll both be new to it, and strugglin’ to get our bearin’s.”

“Can I call ya sometime?” Atsumu asks, not quite meeting his gaze. “Ya know, to vent? Or get advice?” 

“Only if I can do the same.” 

“Deal.” Atsumu sticks his hand out. 

Aran shakes it, then uses it to push up off the ground and pull Atsumu up with him. 

“Now come on, Captain.” He grins at Atsumu. “Let’s catch up to everyone before they wipe out dinner.”

Atsumu groans and rubs his stomach. “Akagi-kun’s mom has the best cooking.”

“I’ll be sure to tell yer mom ya said that.” 

Atsumu goes ramrod straight. “Please don’t. She’ll kill me if she hears that.” 

Aran laughs and throws an arm around Atsumu’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

~

When he plays in his debut match, all of his friends are there to cheer him on, sitting alongside his family. They all show up in his jersey number, and this time, when the Miya twins compete to see who can cheer Aran on the loudest, Kita joins in. 

It’s his baby sister, sitting above everyone’s heads on Suna’s shoulders who is the best cheerleader, of course.

And after the Falcons win their first game, there are no tears in Aran’s eyes. Instead, there’s that same surge of pride as he lines up with his teammates and bows towards his friends and family, standing at the front of the audience. 

**Author's Note:**

> Aran's life outlook means so much to me, and I hope that I was able to convey some of my love for him in this story
> 
> thank you so much to [stefansgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefansgirl) for beta reading :>
> 
> come say hi on [twt](https://twitter.com/littleboatau)!


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